Kyojiro felt the tremors coursing through his body. For a moment, his knees buckled under the weight—was it exhaustion, or the death of something within him? He didn't know.
Still, a sigh of relief escaped his lips. He looked around and was pleased to find Konoha still standing strong, holding its ground against Kumo.
They must have noticed the lack of Jonin and started giving it their all, he thought, a faint smile curving his lips.It seemed that deep within his hardened spirit, the same joy still lingered—the quiet warmth of helping others, of saving lives.
His muscles screamed in protest, his ligaments creaked. Sharp pain echoed through his body, yet he stood tall.
And he did what he did best—He breathed.
Natural energy filled his lungs—the air, the metallic tang of blood, the ozone-laced wind, the stench of corpses and scorched earth.
And somehow, despite his broken state, his body responded. Empowered once more, Kyojiro clenched his fist, gauging how much strength he had left.My chakra is close to running out… which means whatever I must do, must be now.
His eyes shifted toward the distant clash—Orochimaru versus Kumo's A.
The future Fourth Raikage, Kyojiro mused. From the looks of it, Orochimaru and A seemed evenly matched.
Orochimaru's higher battle IQ and vast Ninjutsu repertoire against A's raw speed and power—it was a clash of extremes.
Kyojiro shook his head slightly. Had B been here, even Orochimaru wouldn't have been able to withstand their combined assault.He sighed in relief. It's a good thing that rapper isn't coming here....
A few days earlier.
The Kumo office sat in a rare silence.
The Third Raikage flipped through a stack of documents—important ones, though fewer than the mountain of papers his counterpart, Hiruzen, handled. In Kumo, delegation was sacred; trusted officers reviewed and signed most matters. Only the most vital papers ever reached the Raikage's desk.
The man himself was a mountain of muscle and presence. Despite his boredom, his hand moved with disciplined efficiency, signing each page with practiced authority.
Then—The doors to his office exploded open.
A peculiar man entered with his usual storm of energy—dark shades on even indoors, and eight swords strapped to his back, glinting like polished fangs.
He threw his arms up with exaggerated flair. "Bakayaro! Konayaro! Raikage-sir, I heard you sent my bro A to Konoha for the counterattack!" His hands moved in wild gestures—not hand signs, but a rhythm all his own.
The Third Raikage didn't even flinch. His deadpan stare was legendary. "What is it, B?" he asked, his tone that of a man more exhausted by a child's antics than addressing the Eight-Tails' perfect Jinchuriki.
B grinned wide. "The awesome B would like to accompany my bro! To defeat evil Konoha—bakayaro, konayaro!"
But this time, the man's words weren't just his usual bravado. There was sincerity in them.
The Third Raikage—who loved B as if he were his own—exhaled softly. Then he spoke with the authority of a true leader."Are you sure, B? I've already sent A with a full battalion."
B nodded, uncharacteristically serious. "Yeah. I wanna protect my brother. If he faces something dangerous, it'd be dumb if I wasn't there when he needed me."
The Raikage blinked once, then broke into a broad smile.
He didn't need to say another word.The decision was already made....
Present time.
The future Fourth Raikage gritted his teeth, dodging another of Orochimaru's sinister tricks. Frustration etched deep into his face.
For what felt like the hundredth time, he lunged—and once again, the snake-man burst into a cloud of smoke.
Every punch, every bolt of speed, every flicker of chakra met only with substitution or illusion.
But despite his irritation, A's focus sharpened further. He was adapting. Slowly, steadily, his instincts were aligning with Orochimaru's deceptive rhythm.
At first, the Sannin had dominated, using trickery, feints, and Ninjutsu bombardments to keep A off-balance. But now—A was learning.
His lightning armor flared, crackling brighter, faster. Wind slashes, earthen traps, water spears, waves of fire—none could touch him.
And for the first time, Orochimaru found himself running out of options. His enormous arsenal of jutsu, once his advantage, was now a liability—each one draining precious chakra.
Even a Sannin's reserves had limits.
Yet A couldn't find a clean opening. Orochimaru was slippery—too slippery.
"Truly," A muttered between breaths, admiration mixing with irritation, "you deserve the title of Sannin."
Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed with amusement. "You're far too green to be complimenting me, kid. I was already a Genin before you were born." His voice slithered, smooth and venomous.
A scowled and moved again, his lightning chakra surging. His body became a blur—armor and weapon fused as one. The ground trembled beneath his steps, air splitting around him.
He struck like lightning itself.
But once again—smoke.
He barely had time to react when a pale hand burst from the ground, reaching for his ankle.
A's eyes widened. Had he damaged my Achilles tendon, I'd have lost my greatest weapon—my speed.
He jumped back instantly, sweat running down his temple. But the exchange had told him something.You're after my legs, aren't you… you slithering, pathetic mess of a Sannin.
He rushed again, faster, sharper, more precise—a streak of lightning tearing through the battlefield.
Their exchange became a blur of genius and raw power—Orochimaru's cunning against A's relentless strength.Neither side winning, neither conceding.
Until—
A voice echoed through the clearing.
A froze mid-motion. His heart hammered—not from battle, but from recognition.
That voice. I know exactly who that is.
From the treeline emerged a figure—shades gleaming, eight swords slung across his back.
"You savior… is here!" he announced with theatrical flair, flashing a grin. "Bakayaro! Konayaro!".
.....
Tell me you all caught that reference ;)